


the bruise and the scar (edited)

by gaythom



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Chapter rewrite, Character Study, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Shaving, all violence is briefly mentioned but there nonetheless, child abuse mention, including relationships, kind of??, lots of mentions pfff, please mind all tags, self harm mention, thank you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24467737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaythom/pseuds/gaythom
Summary: jeremiah touches the scar on his right collarbone, the cut that was too neatly done to properly match jerome’s. he doesn’t know how jerome got his own scar, but it was the length of his finger, and he didn’t want them to be different. he wanted to be like his twin. he was eleven.—this is a slight rewrite/edit of one of my chapters from my fic. wanted to show a bit of my writing style in 2020 with my most liked chapter. (-: it probably won’t make an ounce of sense to readers who haven’t read that story. sorry! feel free to click anyways!!! (:
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska, Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	the bruise and the scar (edited)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the devil is raging, inside my mind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056348) by [gaythom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaythom/pseuds/gaythom). 



> howdy my friends. it’s been a while, huh? almost a year since i’ve updated tdirimm. i know, i feel awful. but! know that i am writing still. i don’t enjoy rereading my story because i dislike a majority of what i’ve written. i’ve grown a lot as a writer, and i wanted to edit one of my chapters. i didn’t change a whole lot, because my heart can’t stand changing something so loved. but i changed what i felt comfortable changing, and i hope if anyone reads this, they enjoy it! much love to you all (and fun extra tidbit at the end notes (; ) ❤️❤️❤️

jeremiah shouldn’t do it. 

he knows his twin has secrets, and he knows he has some of his own (though he’s a bit worried about that now), but it’s killing him to know the secret happening right in front of him. 

jeremiah isn’t an idiot, and he knows jerome knows that, yet his twin still tries anyway. he almost doesn’t understand why jerome would think he would hate him over some secrets, but then jeremiah thinks of his own, and he understands. 

the face jerome made while looking at his phone as jeremiah told him what time he got home confused the  hell out of him. he wants to know what messages he was looking at. 

jeremiah shouldn’t do it. 

but jerome left his phone right there, practically screaming at jeremiah to look through it. yet he likes to think he’s better than that, that he isn’t the kind of person to snoop. 

he stares at the phone on his nightstand. 

he sits on the edge of his bed and twists his fingers together, biting his lip. he looks back at the open door, and quickly walks over and shuts it. he walks back to the bed, but doesn’t sit, instead just staring at the phone. 

what if it has a lock? jeremiah can’t guess it. they may be twins, but jerome’s mind can be so random and unorganized that it would be pointless. maybe it’s the fingerprint lock like bruce was telling him about. are their fingerprints similar enough to work? probably not. why is he even thinking about this?

he walks back to the door and takes a deep breath. he isn’t going to do it. he can’t. he can’t break trust. 

but what if it’s about him? 

_ no _ , he thinks, why would it be about him? jerome did text him last night, but nothing overly weird. sure, they don’t really say ‘i love you’, they haven’t since they were kids, but jeremiah is fairly certain that that isn’t it. so who did he text last night? 

who did he have sex with last night?

the question has been bothering him since jerome talked about his back. it gave him a churning in his stomach. his twin doesn’t always talk about his nights out, but will ocassionally mention a girl or a boy that he had a fun time with as an explanation for not coming home. 

jeremiah hates it. 

he looks at the phone again, wondering if the texts will reveal who he was with last night. is it explicit? is it vague? is that why jerome had to ask questions? 

_ screw it _ , he thinks, walking back to the bed with purpose and picking up jerome’s phone. he hears the shower turn on, and knows now he has time, he doesn’t need to rush. 

he clicks the button at the bottom and the screen lights up. 

jeremiah’s heart skips a beat. 

his background is a picture of them, and it had to have been from the other morning, when they woke up together for the first time in years. he has his eyes closed and face pressed into jerome’s neck, who is smiling widely at the camera. he had no clue this photo was even taken. 

he hadn’t really thought jerome was a sentimental person. then again, he has kept that stupid purple bouncy ball for ten years. 

it makes him start to doubt what he’s doing all over again, but he supposes it won’t matter if he can’t even get into the phone at all. he takes a deep breath and clicks the button again. 

it opens. his heart stops. 

why would his twin leave his phone so vulnerable? what if he forgets it while stealing something and all of his information is just free to the world?

he looks down at the green message box, and pushes on it with a shaking thumb. jerome talks to a lot of people, but the top two conversations are with him and bruce. 

his heart is racing, and his hands are a little shaky, and he feels a nervous flush take over his face. he clicks on bruce. 

\- sry gotta leve . miah but not u. not a dick prmise. i wuld do thiss sober too hahaah . txt u n mornin k -

jeremiah furrows his eyebrows while attempting to decipher the jumbled message. did jerome leave the party early? did he leave with someone? he checks the time it was sent, and thinks that, no, he couldn’t have. it was sent a little before he got home last night, so there wouldn’t have been time for him to leave the party, go to someone’s house, have sex with them, and get home. 

jeremiah goes back to his own name, and sees that the message saying he was on his way home was sent at the same time as the text to bruce. jeremiah doesn’t understand. if jerome texted bruce because he was leaving the party _and_ texted jeremiah that he was coming home, at the same time, he couldn’t have gone anywhere with anyone else.

how does that make sense?

why, exactly, was jerome be freaked out by his text to bruce? what would he also do while sober that he did drunk? jeremiah doesn’t understand what that means. jerome did, though. what conclusion did jerome apparently come to when he read this message? 

jeremiah blinks. his body freezes. the two open-ended, mysterious dots from last night connect into one straight line, jarringly solved with the same answer.

_ who did he text last night? _

_ who did he have sex with last night? _

_ no _ , he thinks aggressively. that can’t be it. can it? it’s not an outrageous thing to think. 

_ what would he also do sober that he did drunk? _

he does not want to think about that. he  _ does not .  _

jeremiah shouldn’t have done it. he should have minded his own business. he should have waited for jerome to talk to him. 

he locks it and sits the phone back down on the nightstand, hand shaking more than before.  it doesn’t matter , he thinks. 

it’s possible he’s wrong, and he’s thinking too hard about it. it’s also possible he’s right, and not thinking hard enough about it. 

he hears the shower turn off, but he doesn’t move. jeremiah isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to be feeling right now. 

should he be angry? he thinks he is. he feels tense and hot, but he doesn’t get angry often enough to recognize when he truly is. he hears the bathroom door open, and jerome’s bedroom door close. what if he’s wrong? then he would be angry about something all in his head. 

jerome was drunk. he was texting at weird times. jeremiah shouldn’t be thinking so deeply into a drunk person’s actions like this. it’s almost ridiculous, in a way. that doesn’t ease the anger, though. 

who is he even angry at? jerome or bruce? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t know a lot. or does he know too much? it’s too confusing. 

jeremiah needs to forget about it. 

it’s not like he can ask jerome or bruce about it, and jerome doesn’t remember last night, so bruce probably doesn’t either. maybe jerome is just as unsure as he is about it. 

he stands up with both his and jerome’s phone, and he heads stiffly to his twin's room, knocking gently on the door. he hears his twin say a muffled assurance that he can come in before he opens the door. 

he wasn’t ready to see the proof that jerome did, in fact, have sex last night. 

jerome still hasn’t put a shirt on, and he has pink, welted scratch marks down his shoulders and back. _was bruce the one who put those there?_ jeremiah swallows down any emotions he might’ve had. jerome would feel it. 

but then jerome turns around, and there’s a bruise on his left collarbone, above his heart, and jeremiah feels another ugly emotion, remembering that he put his hand on jerome’s heart last night to fall asleep, right on top of it, and he wants to dig his thumb into, make it  _ darker _ , make it  _ hurt _ -

_ stop it .  _

he swallows harder, and looks his twin in the eyes, draining all emotion from his face to create a blank mask.

“what’s up?” his brother casually asks, like there’s nothing off about either of them. 

“i, um,” and  god , he’s already stuttering. “i was wondering if bruce could come over tomorrow if you do go grocery shopping.” his brother nods and picks a shirt up off the floor. jeremiah wrinkles his nose a little. 

“yeah, ‘course.” and jeremiah walks closer to sit jerome’s phone down on the bed, keeping a hold of his own. 

“can you give me his number?” jerome pulls the shirt over his head, and pauses to look at jeremiah in a way he doesn’t recognize. 

“yeah, i’ll text it to ya,” his twin sits down on the edge of the bed and picks up his phone. jeremiah feels his heart race, knowing he’s looked through his messages. 

he can’t help but wonder what else his twin is hiding in that phone. 

his own phone buzzes with a new text.

“did u ever find the way to change my contact name from ‘broski’?” jerome asks with a smile. jeremiah opens the message and stares at it. he doesn’t actually know how to save the number from a text message. 

“no, but i figured out how to download the youtube app,” he says, handing the phone to jerome to save it for him. his twin takes it and pats the spot next to him. jeremiah swallows, and moves to join him stiffly. 

“oh yeah?” jerome starts pressing things. “did you find any of the songs i showed you?” jeremiah just nods, and jerome hands it back to him. the screen is ready to type in the contact name. 

jeremiah takes it, types in “bruce”, and hits done. 

“now you can text him yourself,” he looks at his twin, and can feel that his expression is blank again. jerome’s smile falters a little. a small bit of guilt surges through him. _he could be wrong._

“thank you, j,” he says sincerely in a soft tone. “i’ll, um, leave you to nap now. i’m going to work some more on the generator.”

“hey,” jerome’s hand reaches out to grab his wrist. it’s too much. “before you start working, i think you need to message doctor thompkins.” jeremiah freezes. “yeah, i didn’t forget about that, miah.”

“i’ll send an email.” he briskly stands up, freeing himself from jerome’s touch, something he never thought he would  want to do. but it was too much, like something he couldn’t stand to feel any longer than necessary. as he gets closer to the door, he can hear jerome stand up, too. 

“i know you don’t want to,” his twin says in a voice so gentle it makes jeremiah freeze, his body glitching like a bad video game character. “but you see her for a reason. so talk to her. when you  can’t talk to me, talk to  her .”

jeremiah can’t move for a few seconds, trying to push down any guilt he feels. he leaves the room without responding. 

he heads for his office first, going to his laptop to start an email to doctor thompkins. 

he doesn’t give a reason, and he doesn’t ask, he just simply states he would like an extra appointment at an earlier date to talk. he hits send, and tries to stop the shaking in his hands. 

jeremiah needs a drink. 

he goes to his other office and pours a glass of whiskey, downing it probably a little too quickly. it doesn’t really help. he decides to down a second one before he heads to the building room. 

jeremiah still hasn’t figured out what he’s doing wrong, what he’s missing. he sits down and just stares at the blueprints. he feels empty in a way he hasn’t in a long while, and yet he should have plenty to feel given the current circumstances. 

and yet he doesn’t feel anything. 

he doesn’t know how much time passes in complete, still silence as he sits at his desk. he lets himself feel nothing, basks in it, accepts it. 

he picks his phone up and sees that it’s already noon, meaning he’s made no progress during the three hours he has been in here. he takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes with a heavy sigh. he picks up his phone and opens his messages, clicking ‘new message’. 

jeremiah stares at it for a few seconds before typing. 

-hey, it’s jeremiah. jerome gave me your number. he plans to go grocery shopping tomorrow, so i wanted to see if you still wanted to help me while he’s gone.-

he supposes that’s as good as it’s going to get, and sends it to bruce. he doesn’t even know if bruce will want to come over. he never answered jerome’s text from last night. 

he doesn’t really want to think back on those texts right now. jeremiah stands up and heads out of the room, wanting something normal to drink. he’s hoping they have some dr. pepper in the fridge still. 

as he gets closer to the kitchen, he passes jerome’s cracked door, and can hear the music playing softly. it’s one of jerome’s favorites. he pauses to keep listening, closing his eyes like jerome always does to this song. 

he wishes he could open the door and join his twin. 

but for some reason, he feels like jerome is off limits, which is strange, and probably all in his head. jeremiah isn’t sure he could hold himself together if he were with jerome right now anyway. jeremiah feels fragile in his emotionless state. 

he moves on and goes to the kitchen. 

he opens the fridge to find that, yes, there is still dr. pepper in there. he feels a small bit of joy at the sight, and almost feels relieved at just feeling  _ something _ . he grabs a can and sits it on the island, opening it up and taking a small sip. his phone buzzes in his free hand. 

-of course. what time are you thinking? have you figured anything out on the generator?-

jeremiah swallows, not expecting bruce to make conversation with him. he’s never done this before. he’s barely had a text conversation with jerome. 

-no, i haven’t. i am more of a morning person. would around 9 work?-

he hits sends, and he thinks maybe he should have asked jerome what time he was going grocery shopping. 

-yes! that works for me. don’t worry, i’m sure we can figure it out.-

jerome is going grocery shopping at nine in the morning now, he supposes. 

he isn’t sure how to respond to bruce now, but he feels it would be rude to just not say anything back. he decides to be polite. 

-i appreciate you offering to help, bruce.-

he sits his phone down and waits, taking another long sip of soda. why is he so jittery? they are just making plans. it’s nothing weird. it _shouldn’t_ be weird. his phone buzzes again and he quickly picks it up. 

-anytime, jeremiah.-

he feels his heart beat a little faster at that, but before he can respond, he gets a second text. 

-if you ever need anything, anytime, please let me know. that’s what phones are good for.-

jeremiah can’t stop the small smile the text brings to his face, and now he really doesn’t know how to respond. 

-you’re a good friend bruce.-

he sends it, but it’s followed by a bitter feeling. he almost forgot. 

almost. 

to be fair, jerome doesn’t remember any of it. bruce could be oblivious, could have no idea he had sex, and if he knows, how would he know it was with jerome? bruce could have interpreted the text the way he did at first. jerome was just texting him he was leaving the club early. 

jeremiah basks in the strange feeling that comes with the knowledge that bruce doesn’t remember what it was like to be with jerome. 

he wants to go back to his room, wants to crawl into bed and just forget, but his bed reminds him of jerome, of the simple fact he isn't there. he can’t. 

he takes a drink and sits it down half empty to head to the bathroom. he will just shower. it’s a good place to waste time. he passes jerome’s room again, hearing music still. his heart aches. he isn’t sure if it’s his own feeling or jerome’s. 

he closes the bathroom door gently and goes to turn on the shower, hoping there’s hot water. he inspects his face in the mirror, seeing stubble again, and thinks he should try shaving after he showers. 

he  hates shaving. 

he doesn’t really like something sharp being that close to his neck. he’s not sure he trusts himself. 

but he also does not want a beard. so it’s necessary. 

jeremiah undresses and takes his glasses off, and glances at his slightly blurry reflection. he sees jerome. he sees what he wishes he could be. 

he turns away with a bitter feeling, climbing into the shower and closing the curtain. the hot water stings his skin. he’s thankful for it. 

he washes slowly, not caring at all how long he’s been in the shower. what does he need to get out for? there’s nothing waiting for him. there hasn’t been a reason for a long time. he doesn’t know why he tries, or why he sees a doctor. nothing helps, and nothing ever will. 

jeremiah knows he is a lost cause. 

he looks down at all the marks of his past, of his failures, some his own creations.

he touches the scar on his right collarbone, the cut that was too neatly done to properly match jerome’s. he doesn’t know how jerome got his own scar, but it was the length of his finger, and he didn’t want them to be different. he wanted to be like his twin. he was eleven. 

he touches the deeper scar, a wound from their uncle. it’s right below his last rib on the left side. it’s only three inches long (jeremiah measured), but it was deep, so deep he could stick two fingers in to the first knuckle (jeremiah measured). 

the doctor in the town they had currently been in, the town he now calls home, said he was lucky it wasn’t deeper and nothing important was hit. jeremiah had told the woman they had been messing around with knives. jerome was fuming, but stayed silent. 

jerome took the fall. mother was not happy. she was angry at them both. she scolded jeremiah, said he was too smart for this, and beat jerome for being so stupid, so reckless. for getting her precious child hurt. jeremiah had screamed and cried for his mother to stop, that it was an accident, but she was too drunk to care or listen. it wasn’t anything new, yet it hurt all the same. 

he shouldn’t have shoved their uncle in the first place, and especially not while he was holding a knife. but he had slapped jerome, and jeremiah had acted impulsively, something he no longer does. jerome held him close that night. he didn’t blame jeremiah. he never did. they were twelve then. 

he goes lower, to his thigh, where he did what he urged to do, but was always afraid of being caught. he wanted to feel a blade pressing into his skin, but he wanted it to mean something. he wanted control. the scars are raised and somehow paler than his skin already is. 

it’s nothing fancy. the space he used is only about the size of his hand on the upper half of his thigh. it’s an intricate, yet unplanned design, if it can even sanely be called that, and it took a very long time. 

he was stupid to permanently cut and carve into his skin, but he was thirteen, and children often get confused, and emotions can be messy. 

a lot of his emotions were a mess. they still are, he supposes. 

he has scars on his knees from falling down too often on the rocky ground. sometimes it was because jerome pushed him down. they were kids during those times, six or seven years old. it didn’t have serious consequences back then. the consequences started when they were nine. 

they both had a nasty habit, but for different reasons. it started when jerome caught a squirrel. jeremiah felt nothing as he watched his brother smash it’s head in with a rock. he did feel curious when his twin had pulled out his pocket knife. 

jeremiah had told him what every little piece was for, but he doesn’t think jerome really cared about that. he just wanted to kill it, tear it apart. jeremiah wanted to see. he had never seen the inside of a living (dead) thing before. 

it was bloody, and it didn’t smell good, but he got to see a heart, and lungs, everything, even if it was miniature. no one caught them the first few animals. 

all fun things come to an end, though. 

he still dreams of the day he builds a home that only he and jerome knows the way in and out of. he’s starting to accept it’s nothing but a childish dream, a pathetic longing he will feel until his heart stops beating alongside his twin’s. 

his skin has turned a shade of red due to the abuse of too hot water, and jeremiah thinks maybe he should get out now. he turns the water off and steps out, grabbing a towel and attempting to dry off. the bathroom is too humid, so he still feels wet no matter how much he scrubs at his skin with a towel. 

he wraps the towel around his waist and wipes at the mirror, figuring it’s time to shave. he sighs heavily. why does he bother? he should just let it go. jerome has let it grow before. not too much, but enough. it didn’t look horrible on him. 

it looked good, actually.  _ really _ good. maybe too good. but it’s a look that suits jerome. it wouldn’t suit jeremiah. 

he picks up his razor and gets the shaving cream out, filling the sink with warm water. he slips on his slightly foggy glasses and sighs for what feels like the hundredth time. 

he starts patting shaving cream all over his cheeks and mouth, and moves down his jaw and half of his neck. he picks up the razor and easily shaves the sides of his face under his sideburns, making sure that they match. 

he cleans it in the water and moves on to his cheek area, slowly going back and forth between shaving and washing the razor. 

he’s on the left side, slowly dragging the razor down, when a knock on the door makes him jump, his concentration lost. he nicks himself right above his jawline, and he hisses at the sting. 

“you’ve been in there a while, and i gotta piss,” he hears his twin’s muffled voice, and stares at his reflection agitatedly. he’s still wearing his towel and he has shaving cream around only his mouth and down his neck. he sits the razor down and dips his hand in the water to wipe at the small cut on his face. 

his brother opens the doors gently, and jeremiah thinks he should have locked it, but says nothing as his twin enters the bathroom and stands behind him. he looks up in the mirror and sees jerome staring curiously. 

“ _what_?” he snaps, and feels a little bad for being rude, but unsurprisingly, jerome doesn’t seem to notice his tone. 

“why do you struggle so much with shaving?” jerome crosses his arms and tilts his head at the mirror. “your neck and jaw are always kinda fucked up.”

jeremiah looks back down and busies himself with washing the razor even though it doesn’t currently need to be washed. 

“it’s not like anyone showed me how to do it properly, jerome.” he sits the razor back down on the counter. “i know the basics, i know how to  do it, but i can’t- i can’t see what i’m even  doing on my neck, especially because my field of vision is limited to where my _glasses_ let me see, and my jaw is so  easy to cut-"

“just let me show you,” jerome interrupts with a shrug. jeremiah blinks at him. “i promise i won’t cut you or anything. _i’m_ actually good at it. _and_ i’m not as blind as a dead bat like you are.”

jeremiah clenches his jaw, hating that this is just another stupidly simple thing that jeremiah can’t do, but jerome can. jerome is better than him at everything important, even when it comes to _vision_. he sighs and closes his eyes, begrudgingly admitting to himself through the bitterness that jerome _is_ better at shaving than him.

“fine.” jerome moves in closer and picks up the razor. “can i at least go put on pants? i don’t particularly like being this naked.” jerome smirks in a way that makes his cheeks heat up.  _stop it._

“yeah, and i’m gonna finally pee,” jeremiah rolls his eyes and grips the towel a little tighter as he heads for the door. he gets to his room quickly, the air chillier outside of the bathroom. he puts on boxers and a pair of plaid sleep pants, but he can’t really put on a shirt with all the shaving cream still on his face.

he heads back to the bathroom, and hears the toilet flush, and figures it’s safe to go in. he isn’t exactly sure how jerome is going to show him how to properly shave his neck and jaw, but he couldn’t say no. he doesn’t know why he couldn’t say no.  _ yes, you do _ , his mind unhelpfully argues. 

jerome glances at him as he refills the sink with water. “you look so goofy,” he says it with a big smile, and jeremiah doesn’t have it in him to be offended or embarrassed. he looks at his reflection and his eyes get caught on the scar on his collarbone. 

he hopes jerome doesn’t pay too much attention to it. 

“okay, do you want to sit on top of the toilet or the counter?” jeremiah furrows his eyebrows. “i’d personally prefer the counter, cause the toilet is so low.”

jeremiah understands now how jerome plans to show him, and it isn’t really showing him, it’s doing it for him. he just swallows and moves next to jerome, lifting himself up to sit on the edge of the counter silently. 

jerome smiles at him. “i’m gonna do it, and kinda give you tips. you’re smart,” jerome picks up the razor and moves to stand in front of him. “you’ll catch on.” jerome pushes his knees apart with his hand and stands between his legs. jeremiah just breathes and tilts his head up. he’s so close. he already wants this to be over with. 

he feels the razor on the lower side of his neck, and tries not to tense up. it glides up easily, but he starts to get anxious as it gets to his jaw. jerome does it quickly, though, and jeremiah doesn’t feel a sting, so he lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. 

“see?” jerome says with a smile. “it’s easy if you don’t think too hard.” he can hear him wash off the razor. “you’re always thinkin’ too hard.”

“i think a perfectly good amount, thank you,” he mumbles it as jerome slides the razor up his neck again. “you don’t think enough sometimes.”

“yeah, i tend to be a bit impulsive, don’t i?” just wash, glide, repeat. he tries to focus on that. “i don’t always think about what comes after. sometimes i do, though.” 

the razor goes over his adam’s apple, and he has to actually stop himself from swallowing, and it’s no wonder he nicks himself. his body does things that lead to it. 

“sometimes i have plans, as you are aware of,”  wash. and jeremiah does not like where this conversation is going. “but, i admit, i can be a bit, uh,” glide. “stupid. dangerously, impulsively stupid.”  wash.  in his head, jeremiah goes through all the things jerome has done that he didn’t think about the consequences, or if it was going to hurt someone. he mostly grew out of the dangerous part. mostly. 

he wonders how impulsive it was to sleep with bruce. 

the bitter thought is exactly why jerome shouldn’t be so close, so casual with him right now. doesn’t he feel guilty? he knows jerome has to know, or is at least aware it is a possibility. jerome read his own drunk texts, too, and had the same reaction jeremiah did when he snooped. it isn’t a coincidence. 

jeremiah has never wanted to be an oblivious, careless fool the way jerome pretends to be more than he does now. 

“you just need to have a steady yet gentle hand,” jerome says, bringing him back to the present, the razor gliding up again. “if you’re gentle but not steady,”  wash. “you’ll slip and nick yourself.”  glide. “if you’re steady but not gentle,”  off of his jaw. “you’ll push too hard, and nick yourself deeper.”  wash. “done with your neck and jaw. let me do your mouth area. you’re probably doing that weirdly, too, nerd.”

jeremiah does feel a bit offended now, but in all honesty, jerome is probably right. he turns his upper half around and leans enough to look in the mirror. his neck and under his jaw isn’t speckled with blood. 

“so, your mouth,” jerome starts, leading jeremiah to face his twin again. “you just always wanna have your lips tucked in. like you have no teeth. do you do that?” 

“kind of,” he replies, trying not to feel like a child. “not all the way.” jerome brings the razor up to his face, and jeremiah tucks his lips in obediently. 

“well, the razor can hurt your lips, so always tuck ‘em in from now on.” jeremiah feels his face flush a little. he’s twenty-one years old and being scolded for the way he shaves.

jerome stays surprisingly silent while he shaves around his mouth, and jeremiah is thankful. it’s not like he can respond, or even defend himself if necessary. his twin would normally jump at that sort of opportunity. 

the abnormality puts him on edge. the silence is as thick as the humid air from his shower. 

jerome moves in closer, probably only an inch, but it makes jeremiah tense up, makes his stomach twist. he knows jerome would have noticed. it makes him feel worse. he closes his eyes and tries to just breathe. he shouldn’t be so hyper aware of their proximity. maybe it’s because of all the anger swirling under the surface of his skin that has him strung tight. maybe it’s because it’s so hot in the bathroom as it is, and he can feel the body heat radiating off of his brother. it’s uncomfortable. it should be. he’s hot. he feels his heart pick up at the feeling of jerome’s sleep pants brushing against the fabric of his own. why is he noticing that? _they_ aren’t physically touching, their _pants_ are, that’s a stupid thing to feel so prominently, _why_ does he feel so _hot_ -

then jerome touches his neck. 

it’s gentle, but it makes jeremiah jump out of his skin. he’s very thankful his twin didn’t have the razor on his face at that moment, because it would have been a  disaster with how forcefully he jerked back.

“hey, sorry,” it’s a quiet breathy laugh, and it makes him feel  too much, like spooked prey . “just wanted ya to tilt back a little.” jeremiah keeps his eyes closed as his twin’s fingers return to his neck. he lets jerome tilt his head back where he wants it, thumb resting parallel to his ear on his face, and his other fingers a warm pressure on the side of his neck. it’s a gentle action, so unlike jerome’s entire existence, and he wants to scream at him. he wants to push him away, ask him _why_ , why he had to be a stupid drunk, why he had to pick the one person he could have had a chance with if he was lucky, why he’s making jeremiah feel all of these ridiculous things that he doesn’t understand.

he lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm his heart down. 

“didn’t mean to scare you.” jerome’s voice is still quiet, and it feels too intimate, and jerome is  still touching his neck and face. he can probably feel how hot he is.

“there,” jeremiah’s eyes open as jerome moves away and washes the razor for the last time. “shaving part done.” shaving part? jerome lets the sink drain and grabs a wash cloth, and  oh. jeremiah relaxes his lips and his posture in general, trying to be comfortable with what's happening. he isn’t. or is he too comfortable with it?

he watches silently as jerome get the wash cloth wet, and involuntarily opens his legs more for jerome to come back. jeremiah is embarrassed by the action, by how easily he accepts jerome to be closer despite the war happening in his head, but he doesn’t think jerome notices. he never really notices those things, the little things. if he notices, he never says anything. 

it’s the kindest thing jerome has done continuously over the course of their lives. 

he lets his eyes close as jerome wipes gently at his neck and jaw, and then his face, the warmth a good excuse for the blush he knows is there. the cloth bumps his glasses a little, making him jump for what feels like the thousandth time. he can practically feel jerome smirking. jeremiah still feels like a child all over again. 

the warm cloth disappears and jeremiah blinks his eyes open as jerome moves away again. 

“just gonna use my aftershave, cause i like it,” jeremiah has never used it, and all he can do is hope jerome doesn’t guess that. “and i know you don’t use it,”  _ damn it _ _._ “because you never smell like me, and i’ve never bought you your own aftershave.”

jeremiah avoids eye contact as jerome moves back in, this time using a hand to scoot his legs apart again. it feels like a brand on his inner thigh. it makes his brain fuzzy for a few seconds. jeremiah has seen the aftershave, but assumed it was just to put on to smell nice. jerome puts some on his hands, and the smell is pretty much exactly how jerome smells constantly. he’s not sure he can stand that right now. 

“you just pat it on gently all over where you shave,” jerome’s hands do just that, his actions gentle but his hands calloused and rough. “it has shit in it that cleans and closes up your pores so it doesn’t get infected, or something.” and yes, that makes sense. it explains why jerome never has any bumps or, as his twin said, a ‘kinda fucked up’ neck. 

he keeps his eyes closed, knowing jerome’s face is going to be unbearably close. he doesn’t want to look at him or see him this close. just feeling it is enough. it’s too much. 

“thank you,” he mumbles out, feeling jerome’s hands lingering more than needed. or maybe it’s just in his head. 

“anytime, baby bro,” and jeremiah gives an annoyed sigh, preparing to snap at jerome like always, because _they are twins, damn it_. but when he opens his eyes, expecting to see that stupidly knowing smile, it isn’t there. 

jeremiah blinks. 

jerome is just looking at him, and for the first time in a long,  _ long _ time, his twin looks sad. the corners of his mouth are pulled down, the rest of his features relaxed yet exhausted. his eyes are filled with emotions, but then jerome looks away, too quickly for him to pin down what he’s feeling. his hand is pulling away from his cheek, too, and for some reason jeremiah doesn’t let him go. he grabs onto his hand, and they both just pause. 

jeremiah doesn’t initiate contact. he never initiates. but he needs to do something,  say something. 

“you know you can talk to me, too, jerome,” he hates how robotic his own voice sounds, but he doesn’t know how to change it despite being genuine, even with the underlying ulterior motive. “you always say it to me, and i always try to. and i know you’re bad at talking about the important things,” it makes jerome scoff. “but i’m serious, jerome.”

he can see his twin clench his jaw, pulling his hand away from jeremiah. it makes something hurt inside. he shouldn’t have touched him, he should have let him go-

but then his twin’s fingers are touching his skin, are touching his right collarbone where the scar is, and he feels his body freeze up. jerome  noticed . jerome paid attention, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. he’s embarrassed, but a disgusting sense of pride rests low in his stomach, because _he knows, he knows he wants to be just like him, aren’t you proud, brother? don’t you feel the same?_

jeremiah doesn’t want to focus on his own feelings, though. he shouldn’t be the only one caught up in the uglier side of his emotions. so he raises his own hand and presses his fingers where he knows that _damn_ hickey is on jerome’s left collarbone. he presses hard. jeremiah  _ also _ noticed,  _ also _ paid attention. he wonders if jerome will know what to say. 

jerome closes his eyes, like he’s been defeated, like he’s tired, and it makes a sick part of jeremiah happy. 

but he’s mostly just hurt. he was right. 

jerome has always joked that jeremiah is a machine, that he’s like a robot that is too smart for it’s own good. sometimes jeremiah agrees, sometimes it scares him how often he feels nothing when he should. 

but jeremiah sometimes feels so much love it  hurts him, and that’s the opposite of robotic. 

he loves jerome, more than words can ever express, but he also feels something close to love blooming for bruce. the two people he cares about the most want each other, and it leaves him alone with too much love that he can’t give, and too much heartache to live with. 

he lets himself slide off the counter, aware that he is standing too close to his twin, but he doesn’t care. he keeps his gaze down on his own fingers, his eyes going hot with the familiar beginnings of tears. jeremiah breathes out shakily, and feels jerome’s own shuddering exhale on his mouth. he shivers at the feeling, at the proximity, at everything feeling like it’s happening at once. yet nothing is happening at all. they haven’t said a word. 

jerome’s palm presses flat against the skin of his chest. he thinks if his twin’s hand was on the left side, over his heart, he would be able to feel it break through all of the skin, muscles, and bones. he can probably feel the way his soul is aching with the fact he’s not wanted, not by either of them, that he has no place with anyone. 

he hates being a twin. he despises the way they share everything and yet nothing at all. jeremiah has nothing but jerome, and recently bruce. but what does it matter now? what role does he play? is he just the background character to their story? 

he presses harder on the bruise, on the hickey bruce left on jerome. possessive jealousy rushes through him, because it’s _his _ bruce,  _ his _ jerome, _this isn’t fair_. jerome’s free hand tries to grab at his, but he stops pressing, stops feeling sad and pathetic. he feels jealousy. he feels _anger_ .

he needs to leave. 

jeremiah brushes past his twin, their shoulders knocking together roughly as he exits the bathroom, and closes his bedroom door behind himself. his skin is colder, now. he lays down in his bed after taking off his glasses, and picks up his phone. there’s a text he missed from bruce. 

-i can’t wait. :) -

something breaks inside of him. 

jeremiah knows the thought of jerome and bruce together makes hot, searing anger and churning jealousy rear their ugly heads. he hates it. but what he hates most is that, in the hidden corners of his mind, doubt begins to seep out into the spotlight.

jeremiah’s unsure who, exactly, he’s jealous of. 

**Author's Note:**

> have a lighthearted moment that took place before this chapter for the angst that just happened.  
> —  
> “so you don’t remember last night at all? even after coming home?” jerome just shakes his head and shrugs. why is jeremiah so curious about whether or not he remembers?  
>    
> jerome watches supsiciously as jeremiah takes a long sip from his mug. he does question why he would have been in jeremiah’s bed last night, and if jeremiah was also in jeremiah’s bed last night, and then jerome feels brief panic before looking at his twin in confusion.  
>    
> “wait, i didn’t,” he pauses dramatically. “have wild, amazing sex with you, did i?”  
>    
> jeremiah chokes on his coffee and almost spills the mug trying to set it down, his eyes wide and incredulous. jerome laughs at the furious blush across his brother’s cheeks and nose.  
>    
> “why would you even ask me that?” the pitch of his voice is high and very confused, but jerome is quick to defend himself.  
>    
> “hey, you are weirdly curious on whether or not i remember last night, and i woke up in your bed with obvious signs that i had sex last night,” jeremiah rubs at his eyes under his glasses with a sigh.  
>    
> “first of all, you woke up with clothes on. second of all, it’s not like i was drunk last night. and third of all, why was that your first thought of what possibly could have happened last night?” jeremiah looks at him flabbergasted, and jerome just starts laughing again.  
>    
> “yeah, okay, you have good points.” he takes another sip of his coffee.  
> —  
> leave me a comment, roasting me for being a terrible author !!! love you guys. i miss you all a lot. ❤️


End file.
